


Maybe, Baby

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Series: Tango Series [10]
Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Banter, Crack, F/M, Het, Pregnancy Tests, Romantic Comedy, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About that other thing… (Another part of a series which began with But I Don’t Dance the Dance of Seduction)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe, Baby

Strange things were afoot at the Circle K. By which Liz meant, right outside her office, which was not a Circle K.

Cerie looked about fifteen times more awake and energetic than Liz had ever seen her assistant look. She was actually pacing and frowning and not playing with her hair.

Oh, shit, maybe Britney Spears was really dead, which would make Liz feel bad because she’d actually picked Britney for the dead pool and now she just felt bad for even picking candidates for the dead pool.

“Are you okay?” Liz asked. Cerie shook her head and threw her arms around Liz. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh my God, Liz,” Cerie whimpered. “I think I might be pregnant. I’m two days late and I’m freaking out.”

Liz shot a look at the ceiling as she patted Cerie on the back. Oh, _hell._ Why did the universe enjoy mocking her this way? Why? Because of the schadenfreude of choosing celebrities for the death pool?

“Two days is a little early to be freaking out, Cerie,” Liz said, trying to sound sympathetic. “Sometimes stress can affect things down there.”

“I know, but I think I may have taken my pill a little late one day, and then Aris’s condom broke, and we’re not even married yet!” Cerie said. “What am I going to do?”

Cerie buried her head in Liz’s shoulder, right as Josh and Toofer walked by, looking confused.

“Dibs on Cerie if she broke up with her boyfriend,” Josh said. Liz would have hit him, but Cerie was holding on pretty tight.

“Go away, Josh,” Liz replied. “Cerie, you’re going to have to let go now.”

With a sniffle, Cerie let go of Liz. “I bet this hasn’t happened to you,” she said. “It’s pretty stupid, right?”

Liz grimaced. “It’s not stupid. It’s something that happens,” she said. “I think you should wait another day or two before you really start to panic, though.”

“But I’m super regular,” Cerie said mournfully. “Aris said I should go on Seasonelle so I didn’t have to worry about my period when we went to Athens on vacation, but I think that’s bad, exactly because of things like this. What do you use?”

Now was not the time to admit that she didn’t actually use the Pill because it was hell on Liz’s ever-contrary libido, and given her track record of boyfriends or, more accurately, her track record of not having one, it hadn’t seemed like something to really worry about.

“Oh, just the normal kind,” Liz lied. “Okay, if you’re really worried about it, we can go to the drugstore that’s three blocks away. They have a good selection of pregnancy tests…”

Good covering, dummy, because why would Liz need to know there was a good selection of pregnancy tests at the local CVS? Maybe Cerie would be as completely oblivious as Jenna back when Liz was covering up her affair with Jack in the first place.

“Oh, good,” said Cerie vaguely. “Did we use them in a sketch or something?”

“Yes, I like to do my research,” Liz lied with aplomb, because she was already on a whole lying roll, so keeping Cerie from finding out that there had maybe been a serious moment of nerd girl panic was only smart.

Besides, maybe it could be a sketch. Someday. When Liz was able to find an unclear pregnancy test funny again.

Oh, crud, wait. Wait, oh, crap, wait. The CVS would have _Rhonda_ on duty. Rhonda would recognize Liz. Rhonda would bust Liz. Liz, who did not want to be busted.

“Can we go right now?” Cerie asked. “Because if I’m pregnant, I have like five thousand things to do immediately, like buy Yummy Mummy sweatpants and stuff.”

That had so very much not been the thing on Liz’s mind when she had her little scare. No, she’d thought, _do I tell Jack? what do I tell him?_ and _where **is** the nearest Planned Parenthood?_ and _Dakota Lynn Lohan is an acceptable fake name, right?_

But Rhonda! Rhonda the evil clerk. Maybe she wouldn’t be on duty. Maybe she would see Cerie along and not blab precious information Liz was pretty sure was covered by HIPAA.

“Okay, let me just tell…” and Liz thought about telling the writers Cerie was maybe pregnant and she was going to go get her a pregnancy test. “On second thought, we’ll just go.”

* * *

The universe had appeared to be kind at first, but that was just further proof that the universe enjoyed making Liz Lemon squirm for her uncharitable thoughts. Because had Rhonda been at the counter when Cerie and Liz walked in and Liz had been momentarily distracted by discount Valentine’s Day candy?

No. Not a sign of her.

But of course, when they’d actually walked back to the counters, Liz holding the pregnancy test because Cerie had practically cried when she touched it, because “I won’t be able to wear super low-rise ever again!” standing there in her full smart-mouthed, gum-popping glory, was Liz’s drugstore nemesis, Rhonda.

Who adjusted her glasses and went, “mmm-HMMM” when Liz set the pregnancy test on the counter.

“Girl, how many of those do you _need?_ ” Rhonda asked, picking the test up. “When you take four of them and they all say the same thing, test number five ain’t gonna change the result. Give it up and go to the Planned Parenthood.”

“It’s not for me, jeez,” Liz said. Cerie was staring at her like she had grown a second head. “I am not currently pregnant.”

Rhonda smirked and tilted her head. “That’s not what you said last week,” she said. “I ain’t never seen a grown woman panic like that. Four different tests, woman! And then that jumbo box of condoms, like that was gonna help after you were knocked up.”

“It was a food baby, I panicked, thank you for sharing my personal health business with the entire store,” Liz said, trying not to blush too much.

“You can still get pregnant?” Cerie inquired curiously. “But you and Jack are kind of old for that.”

“Oh, little baby,” Rhonda said. “This one isn’t even on the Pill.”

Forget two heads, Cerie was now staring at Liz like she was a Wookie or using meth.

“Liz, that’s so irresponsible!” Cerie gasped, clearly appalled as she turned away from Rhonda. “Does Jack know that? Oh my God, does Jack know you’re pregnant?”

“I’m not pregnant. I overreacted to a late period,” Liz said grimly. “I am happily non-pregnant. And really super uncomfortable discussing my private life with you two like this. And also, there are other people waiting in line, so could we get on with this?”

Rhonda chortled. “Her man was even worse than her,” she confessed to Cerie, who was eating this up. “He comes in and get a box of cigars, a box of wine, and more candy than I ever seen any man buy in my whole entire life. Hands me a hundred dollar bill, says, get him some beef jerky to round out the bill.”

“Was he happy or sad?” Cerie asked, perking up again. Okay, this was too much. Cerie couldn’t even remember if Liz was married or not on a regular basis, and now she wanted to know if Jack was happy or sad about a pregnancy scare?

“Can we get the test and GO?” Liz snarled suddenly. Cerie and Rhonda shrank back a little. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Someone’s got herself an attitude I don’t appreciate,” Rhonda said crisply. “Fifteen-oh-nine, please. Exact change only.”

“Do I really have to pee on it?” Cerie asked suddenly. “Can you hold it for me when I do, Liz?”

* * *

“A hundred dollars of beef jerky?” Liz asked later.

“I had a panic attack and then distributed it among the homeless,” Jack said with a shrug. “And I see you too have met Rhonda at the local CVS.”

“She busted me to Cerie when we went to get her an EPT,” Liz said with a grimace. “And you. To Cerie and the other customers. I think I should complain to her manager. Because I had to promise I’d go on the Pill and buy Cerie off to make her promise to keep quiet about the whole thing. Dooney and Burke is expensive.”

Jack nodded slightly. “Are you really going to go on the Pill?” he asked. “I thought you hated it.”

“I should,” Liz said. “I don’t really want to. The Pill makes me brain-dead. The longest I used it was for six months. I gained five pounds and lusted after macaroni and cheese, but not my boyfriend. He left me for a really, really flat-chested secretary with a mole. They have like, six kids now.”

“If you don’t want to use it, then don’t,” Jack said. “I rather prefer you as you are. Thinnish, smart, and interested in sexual activity.”

“Okay,” Liz said, not really minding that Jack was needling her, because she liked being thinnish, smart, and interested in sex, too. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“You have good reasons,” Jack said. “I doubt you’re secretly plotting to impregnate yourself to entrap me, despite your brief period of babymania. Though if you do change your mind, I would like at least a month’s notice so I can go on a last rampage with Tracy.”

Liz parsed Jack’s statement three times and blinked rapidly. “So you’re okay if I get pregnant if I give you a month’s notice and a bachelor party?” she asked.

“I think that’s only fair,” Jack said.

This was by far the weirdest relationship Liz had ever been in, and she’d dated some incredibly bizarre men in her life.

Which was what she was about to say when her phone went off. Diving for it, Liz noted the caller ID informed her it was Cerie calling. Which wouldn’t be so unusual except that Cerie had called Liz’s phone a grand total of three times during her two years of assistantship.

“Hello?” Liz said. “Are you okay?”

“Aris is really freaking out about the unclear pregnancy test,” Cerie said, sniffling again. “I mean, _really freaking out._ He kicked his PS3 out of a window, even though it had his game scores on it and everything. Can you put Jack on so that he can give Aris man advice?”

“Um,” said Liz. “How do you know I’m even at Jack’s right now, one, and two, why do you think Jack would be a good advisor about anything ever?”

Jack snorted. “Give me the phone, Lemon,” he said. He always reverted to last names when giving commands.

“Is it possible to die of embarrassment?” Liz asked, handing him the phone as she tried to get into a comfortable position on the floor. “Because I’m going to try now.”

“You do that. It’s not possible, but I know how you enjoy masochistic neurosis,” Jack said. “Hello, Jack Donaghy. You’ll have to stop sniffling, Cerie. Yes, I understand. He did? Yes, of course I’ll speak to him. No, Lemon is fine with this.”

Liz made a face at Jack. “No, I’m not,” she mouthed. He rolled his eyes at her and kept talking.

“Aris,” Jack said. “I understand you’ve had quite a shock. Yes. Yes, I understand this might prove an impediment to your extreme skydiving weekend in Costa Rica. Of course, deposits are high. The dollar is weak, Latin American tourism firms are notoriously unreliable… Aris…Aris…”

Liz suddenly realized she’d never even met Aris. She’d just imagined a hot, rich guy who worshipped the ground Cerie walked on and enjoyed that she tried to find the shortest possible skirts. Considering Jack had just said Aris for the eighth time, maybe she’d overestimated the worship.

“I want you to look at your fiancee, Aris,” said Jack, cutting through the noise. “She’s about ten times more terrified than you could ever be. It’s her body that’s going to swell up like a balloon. Her bladder will shrink to the size of a gumball, and she’s going to be throwing up more often than a new pledge on Jaeger. Imagine watching your body going funhouse mirror on you while everyone gives you advice and tells you that you’re glowing.”

Oh, he was making a SPEECH. Liz got back on the bed. Because it was fun to try to make Jack lose pace in a speech by screwing with him childishly by crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out.

“You have to ask yourself, what would you want if you were bloated, nauseous, and constantly being annoyed by everyone?” Jack continued. “And keep in mind, your fiancee didn’t test your patience by pushing a risque sketch for national television while giving you the scare.”

Liz kicked him. Jack rolled his eyes and kept going.

“What did I think, when I heard?” Jack asked. “I realized that it was a future event I anticipated anyway, and while the timing was alarming and somewhat diabolical, it wasn’t worth dissolving a relationship over.”

He played so dirty. This was to make up for the speech she’d derailed after the pregnancy scare that wasn’t.

“That’s domestic,” Liz hissed at him. “Domestic which I’m supposed to hate, you giant cheater. Also, you freaked out and bought beef jerky.”

“And then I resolved that if you were indeed ‘up the spout’ as the kids put it these days, I’d support your decision,” Jack said. “No, I’m not talking to you, though that is the correct and manly decision, Aris. I’m talking to my obstinate companion who brings up I did have to buy a large amount of beef jerky to come to terms with the news.”

Long pause. “It seemed the correct response at the time,” Jack admitted. “But the point is that what I find enchanting about my ‘old lady,’ as you put it, is that she could clearly survive without me, and still decides to make faces at me instead of doing what she would.”

Another long pause. “Your assistant wants to talk to you,” Jack said, handing Liz the phone back. “I wasn’t aware she regarded you as a mother figure.”

“Me neither, except that she thinks I have mom butt,” Liz said, taking the phone back. “I guess it’s Stockholm Syndrome. I waited in the bathroom while she peed on a stick. We are sisters in pregnancy terror. Cerie?”

“What did Jack say to Aris?” Cerie asked. “Because he’s like, pacing.”

“He said that Aris should support you, whatever your decision, and that he loved me for my independence,” Liz summarized. “Also that pregnancy makes women bloated and icky.”

“Do you truly disagree?” Jack asked.

“I’m on the phone,” Liz said. “Anyway, do you think you two will be okay?”

“Well, he’s not crying anymore, so I think that’s good,” Cerie said. “Thanks, Liz. I’ll totally keep quiet about how you and Jack were almost old parents, like Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas. Which is almost cool when you think about it.”

With that parting shot, Cerie hung up and Liz shook her head. Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“Almost cool,” said Liz. “Which by Cerie standards is a glowing compliment.”

“And you have nothing to say about the advice I relayed to young Aris?” Jack asked.

“You’re getting domestic, Donaghy,” Liz said, leaning back against the bed and stretching. “Pretty soon you’re going to try to stick me barefoot in a kitchen. Or worse, in a Chanel suit at a charity fundraiser with other executive wives.”

Jack choked on that vision. “Oh, dear Lord,” he muttered.

“It could be awesome. I could have a Kate Spade diaper bag and bounce little Johnny on my knee and talk all about how I support…the writers,” Liz said. “And universal health care. I bet the Geiss ladies would love me. I’d show them where all the best restaurants in the East Village were.”

“You’re mocking me, Lemon, and I will get my revenge,” Jack said, leaning over her.

“Not mocking,” Liz said. “Just reminding you that you clench a little at the thought of happily ever after at the Lemon-Donaghy compound, too, even if I love you and you love me.”

“It would be a veritable Hell,” Jack said, stroking her side.

“Complete with all the new liberal friends I’d suddenly have, all trying to get some of that NBC airtime,” Liz agreed, angling up. “Mmm, MoveOn.org people mingling with Christie Todd Whitman.”

He tugged at the string on her ratty-ass flannel pajama pants that she wore, truthfully, to irritate him.

“The inevitable backstabbing cries that you’ve sold out when little Johnny enrolls at the preschool your fellow hippies would sell their mothers to get into,” Jack pointed out, brushing his mouth against her ear. “Ash Wednesday with Colleen.”

“My parents after too much eggnog,” Liz added, tugging her pajamas down before pausing. “Why is this turning us on?”

“We’re strange and perverse people who’ve found each other in a harsh and cold universe,” Jack said, biting her earlobe. “And we’re not beautiful idiot twentysomethings about to breed. Thank God.”

“Yep,” Liz said, pulling him closer. “That sounds about right to me.”

 


End file.
